


Rain

by IcyDeath



Series: Ice Cubes [2]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Jack doesn't cry so it rains instead, Learning how to cry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-09
Updated: 2013-05-09
Packaged: 2017-12-10 21:26:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/790336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcyDeath/pseuds/IcyDeath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He can't cry, that's why he lets the rain do it for him instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rain

**Author's Note:**

> **Summary:** Jack Frost doesn't always make it snow. Sometimes he makes it rain.

## 

Chapter 1: _Rain_

Jack was pretty sure that the spirit of rainfall would be angry at him by now.

Granted, he heard from admiring nymphs and spirits that the rain-guy was a cheerful and forgiving person who soothed anyone with his presence, the guy must still be pissed off at Jack for taking away his element.

But Jack couldn't help it.

Snow was technically frozen water. Rain was water too.

So it wasn't Jack's fault that it suddenly started _raining_ rather than _snowing_.

Looking up at the sky, Jack admired the dark clouds covering the normally endless blue. He was soaked to the bone by freezing water and he watched as the rain became heavier each second.

He was tired from spreading snow all over the globe. His powers were at their weakest and they weren't even strong enough to freeze the water a bit more and turn them into snow. This was why there was never any snow on tropical countries. Whenever Jack came by, he was too tired to even produce a small snowfall for them, add to the fact that these countries were sweltering hot, snow days were practically impossible here.

The young teen held up a hand as he felt the water flow down from his palms to his arms then to his already soaked hoodie. Despite being a snow elemental, he liked the rain as well. It was soothing and nice, the sounds of the rain made you want to fall asleep peacefully and never wake up. The rain reminded the snow spirit of unshed tears and untold secrets.

Plopping down under an oak tree and onto wet grass, Jack continued to gaze unseeingly through the rain. He could feel water trickle down from his hair down the sides of his face.

Jack was a prideful teenage spirit, someone who would never allow himself to cry despite the three hundred years of solitude from children and other spirits as well. He believed that crying would make him vulnerable, thus, he constantly ignored that jabbing pain in his heart and that burning sensation in his eyes that prompted tears.

He couldn't cry.

He _didn't_ want to cry.

Which was why he let the sky do it for him.

That's why, instead of curling up in some dark and cold cave, he holds himself together and watches as the rain from his own weakened powers desperately try to wash away the feelings of solitude that would never _ever_ go away from him.

The rain came down harder.

And Jack catches one drop and tries to freeze it.

But even this small effort could not be done. Instead, the rain drop just slides from his skin and unto the soaked ground.

This would happen at least once a year to him. He would become as weak as a kitten, unable to let out the full potential of his power. Unable to make a good solid snowball to throw around and have fun with, unable to laden the land with a thick blanket of frost to build snowmen and lay down to make snow angels with…

And when his body was at its weakest state, so was his mind.

All the mental barriers were down and the masks broken, the walls crumbling… He couldn't afford to lose his emotions when he was capable of making a blizzard. That's why- that's why, when he was at his weakest state, when all he was capable of was making it drizzle, he'd let his guard down like this. He'd think of three hundred years of solitude and feel the deepness of his sorrow and confusion.

And then he'd make the sky cry for him.

He'd make the sky cry for all those years of being unseen, of being walked through.

He'd make the sky cry for the times when he found spirits that _could_ see him but _didn't_ care about him.

He'd make the sky cry for the fear and loss he carried around him ever since he woke up alone in the freezing winter.

He'd make the sky cry because he _couldn't_.

And then, and _then_ when he'd exhausted the sky's tears, he'd eventually curl up under the tree to watch the rain drizzle and eventually stop. He'd hug his knees to his chest and give off a shaky breath as he tried to build himself back up again.

Because the season for tears was coming to an end now. He had to go back to being mischievous Jack Frost, snowballs and fun times as he felt his natural power of snow and ice come back to him slowly but surely, signifying that yes, he had to leave the tropical countries now and bury himself in some snow bank somewhere in the South Pole as he waited for his powers to come back.

And while he was waiting, he had to pick up the pieces of the crumbling wall around his heart and build it back up again. Because if he didn't, then he'd have another blizzard of '68 in his hands and he doubted a certain rabbit would be happy about that.

So as Jack stood up shakily, he took one last look at the sky. He could see the dark clouds giving way to an endless blue with a touch of a rainbow at the side. And because of that, the winter sprite couldn't help but notice how brighter the sky seemed to be after the rain.

And deep inside of him he couldn't help but think…

That _maybe_ if he _cried_ for once, he'd feel better too.

That _maybe_ if he'd shed a few tears, his heart wouldn't be so heavy.

But no.

Instead of considering this, Jack simply slammed the butt of his staff onto the wet ground, allowing the wind to lift up his tired form.

He was Jack Frost, the personification of winter. He was snowballs and fun times, mischievous, and daring…

He was a lonely winter sprite with no friends, no family, and that would never change. He was alone and distant, and he had to personify the coldness he brought with him wherever he went.

That's why, _that's why,_ he'd let the sky cry for him a little longer.

Because he couldn't, he _wouldn't…_

He shouldn't… cry.

And he never will.

…

Jack Frost is the personification of winter. He represents the harsh cold and he brings snow days to all the little kids who couldn't see him.

But Jack Frost doesn't _always_ make it snow…

Sometimes, when he felt like the world was crumbling around him _again_ , he would make it rain. And he'd let the sky cry for him instead.

Because no one else would cry for _him_ when he couldn't cry for himself.

**Author's Note:**

> The second chapter **Droplets**.
> 
> **Summary:** Five time it rained in the guardians homes and one time they realized it was actually Jack crying.


End file.
